Weapons, comfort and existence.
Words are my addiction; sometimes soft: a butterfly and sound of trees, or scent of snow — But words are often harsher, metals, minerals the kind you forge for war: […]
Words are my addiction; sometimes soft: a butterfly and sound of trees, or scent of snow — But words are often harsher, metals, minerals the kind you forge for war: […]
Tick the box for yet a year cheer for all the new beginnings; sing the things for all that’s over slur intoxicated; dance and don’t look back for my forgiveness. […]
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
the woes and dreams of a twenty-something with too many feelings
Now we see through a glass, darkly
A Little Writing Workshop of Horrors.
rejuvenatement - not retirement
words and scribble.
The Quantumverse
Poetry
About fantastical places and other stuff
Sharing my thoughts, poems, travel & art